I've broken my nose, I've broken ribs. You name it. In fact, we just got back from South America, and I fell over a monitor speaker on the stage and almost ended up in the front row of the audience. I managed to sprain my wrist on that one but luckily nothing was broken.
Ive broken my nose, Ive broken ribs. You name it. In fact, we just got back from South America, and I fell over a monitor speaker on the stage and almost ended up in the front row of the audience. I managed to sprain my wrist on that one but luckily nothing was broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates. Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts.
I've died 3 times, I've been shot in the back, stabbed once in my arm, stabbed 2 times in my back, run over by a truck, been poisoned, broke both of my arms, nose (3 times broken), ribs, both legs, but a broken heart hurt me the most.
I've kind of banned myself from motorcycles. I've had broken ribs, broken shoulder, wrists, leg, broken collarbone - and it was all from motocross or rugby. All of my injuries have come from outside of sailing.
Going back to the moon is not visionary in restoring space leadership for America. Like its Apollo predecessor, it will prove to be a dead end littered with broken spacecraft, broken dreams and broken policies.
I was keen on sports-that's how my nose got this way. It's not actually broken; the nose was just pushed up a little bit and moved over. It's an aquiline nose, quite Irish.
Everybody knows something's broken in the world. But illogically, foolishly, we are looking for fixes from broken people with broken ideas in broken places.
In true love there is no heart break. A broken heat means broken demands, broken expectations and broken hopes.
I've been very fortunate with injuries: I've had the odd broken bone in my back; when I was starting out here in England, I cracked a few ribs, and I've broken a bone in my hand.
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
This world is full of broken things: broken hearts, broken promises, broken people.
And I never started to plow in my life That some one did not stop in the road And take me away to a dance or picnic. I ended up with forty acres; I ended up with a broken fiddle— And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories, And not a single regret.
I was able to convince my body that I could take it and nobody could hurt me. I might've gotten cut, stitches over my eyes. Broken nose. Broken hands. But I never really got hurt.
Broken people give broken love. And we are all a little broken. You just have to forgive and sew up the wounds love delivers, and move on.
I've separated my shoulder and my collarbone; I've messed up my knee a million times. I've broken my foot in several places. I've broken my toe a bunch, broken my nose a couple of times, and had a bunch of other annoying little injuries, like turf toe and arthritis and tendonitis. It's part of the game.
What’s broken is broken—and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I live…I’m too old to believe in such sentimentalities as clean slates and starting all over.